


Kintsugi

by redkakumei



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4542360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redkakumei/pseuds/redkakumei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He used to spend hours thinking about what it would be like to have a normal life. A wife, a kid or two, just one dog in a white picket fenced garden." Will's journey through the second half of the third season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starkaryen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkaryen/gifts).



> For starkaryen, who deserves all the porn and only gets psychological analysis instead. Thanks for being the Will to my Hannibal.
> 
> (Spoilers up to Hannibal 3x10 and the Red Dragon book).

He used to spend hours thinking about what it would be like to have a normal life. A wife, a kid or two, just one dog in a white picket fenced garden. Neighbors who knew his name and were close enough to see the lights through his windows.  
He thought about it even though he knew he could never have it. Kids were out of the question. He couldn’t risk passing on whatever it was he had and the idea of being responsible for someone else’s psychological wellbeing paralyzed him with terror. He had had some relationships, but being so close to someone for long meant being able to see too much, to see everything. Before long he could always see his own shortcomings and then he started resenting first himself, and then whoever it was that was sharing his bed and his head. 

No, he never dreamt of having a normal life with a pretty wife and a nice kid, but when he chose not to leave with Hannibal he had no other choice. The only way of running from his demons was to run towards a different fantasy he never thought could be real.

And yet, it was. It hadn’t even been that difficult, he knew what normal people liked. The easier suit to wear was the nice guy one. All politeness and smiles with just enough cheekiness and the odd crude joke to keep the interest going. He could never show his demons, the true horrors of his mind, but he was broken enough that it showed and there was always people around with a savior complex to take it upon themselves to fix him. So he chose Molly, with her simple mind and her easy conversation and her nice enough kid. Just a touch of sadness in them, enough to make it all bearable.

Weeks pass, and then months, and suddenly it’s been three years of Sunday barbecues and laughing during sex and drinking beer while doing taxes.

So when Jack comes calling it’s easy to forget what he’s actually facing. He knows what’s waiting for him but somehow he feels responsible for those other families who look so much like his own. That’s what normal people do: they pack their bags and they face their demons with the support of their loved ones and they come back a little scathed, but it’s worth it.

Jesus, how can he be so wrong? How has he allowed himself to get so lost in the fantasy? 

 

**********

 

There’s a part of him (there’s always been) that wants to see Hannibal just because but when he tells Jack that he needs to see Hannibal to get back in touch with his inner demons, he does mean it. He even believes that he will just get a little taste of what he feels like and he will be on his way.

Man, he never knew he could transform himself so absolutely into a normal person. He actually believed it.

But then he goes to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He always says the full name in his head, like a mantra that will remind him exactly what Hannibal is. So he goes to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane and he crosses all the gates and he stands before Han- No. Before Doctor Lecter. And if his chest tightens he tells himself that it’s just the memory of the fear and the anxiety that kept him awake for months. Because it was that and not longing that stole his sleep and his mind for a bit.

It does start then. The letters, even with Hannibal’s copperplate handwriting, were easy to dismiss, to forget. But now he’s standing before him, and he’s actually pretending to be worried about him. He doesn’t buy his act. Doctor Lecter is all pretense and lies and he fucking dares to look hurt because there’s a child in his life.

Fuck him. He just wants to catch this new monster and save the next family before the full moon and Doctor Lecter is his best chance.

 

**********

 

“I gave you a chance if you recall.”  
He comes back through his dreams. He can control what he thinks, what he says, even what he sees. But he can’t control his dreams and so he dreams of Hannibal and of Abigail and the family they could have been. He fists the blankets and he drowns in his own sweat and rage until he does no more. 

Days pass. Every morning he puts his nice guy suit and he talks to everyone he used to know. He faces Price and Zeller and he even visits Bedelia and he shows his disdain and he focus on catching this new monster.

It’s easier than he expected. He finds out about the Red Dragon connection and he even gets to see him, though he does not catch him then. But still, he gets so close, so quick. And he doesn’t even dream of the twisted teeth of the Great Red Dragon, devouring his victims.

He dreams, instead, of Hannibal. The rage and the nightmares start disappearing and the pain of Abigail’s loss loses its edge. He has lost her too many times now for it to feel real anymore.

And when he finally lets go of that pain, everything else starts rushing in.

 

**********

 

He stops calling Molly and after a few days of missed calls and short texts she stops calling too. 

Those three years don’t even feel real anymore. He hangs the nice guy suit and puts back his own awkward skin and he feels at home like he hasn’t felt since… Since when? The thoughts mingle in his mind, confusing. He starts sorting through the memories but it’s all too tangled.

In the end he choses little bits here and there. The moments at the beginning, when he still wasn’t sick, and he didn’t know what Hannibal was. The feeling of closeness, the rare smiles they shared, but also the revelation. When he realized, when he knew, and when he saw him for the first time after his brain was no longer on fire. And he even treasures those days when they were planning to run away together. Even if it was all a lie, it kind of feels real now. He chooses to make it real.

The day Freddie dies he hides in his room and he drinks. Not too much, just enough to get her taste out of his mouth. He knows he didn’t actually eat her but he’s a bit too wrapped up in the new reality he’s been building and he can still smell her burning flesh and he needs to drink another glass. And then another one.

He dreams then of Florence and Muskrat Farm and he’s not ready to remember _that_ so he wakes up crying and with a longing that makes his body ache. Jesus Christ. How could he let Hannibal’s love go to waste? It seemed the obvious choice back then. Staying, imprisoning his demons, forgetting everything. He’s been dead for the past three years and he hadn’t even realized.

He sees clearly for the first time in his life and all he sees is that it’s too late. It’s too fucking late and Hannibal is on the other side of that glass because he knew sooner or later he would realize and he wanted to be there. Where he could find him.

He tears apart the room and he drinks the rest of the bottle and not even when he falls into a drunken unconsciousness is he free of his regret.

 

**********

 

He needs a few days to pull himself back together but then he takes a shower, he shaves and he puts on clean clothes. He does not use his usual aftershave.

He goes to see Hannibal and they discuss the case. Once there’s nothing else to add, Hannibal looks at him with open curiosity.

—You seem distracted, Will.  
He passes a hand through his hair.  
—I’m just tired of all this. Maybe I need a hobby.  
Hannibal frowns just a bit but he keeps talking.  
—Something to do with my hands, you know? To let my mind rest. I’ve been looking into kintsugi. 

He sees the moment Hannibal’s heart skips a beat. A muscle in his cheek twitches but he keeps breathing like nothing extraordinary has happened.

—The Japanese art of repairing broken pottery. 

He can feel the hope in Hannibal’s voice. It’s like honey, sweet and just a bit sticky. He can’t help to smile.

—I would not use gold, of course, I can’t afford that kind of extravagance. But I like the idea of taking something broken, something that ought to be thrown away, and putting it back together. Not like it was, but transforming it into something new. Something beautiful.

It takes Hannibal a moment to find his voice.

— What if there are missing pieces? Irreplaceable pieces?

He stares into Hannibal’s eyes for a long moment before answering.

—Part of kintsugi is treating breakage and repair as part of the history of the object, rather than something to disguise. Maybe it’s pretending something hasn’t been broken that makes the repairing it impossible.

He knows the exact second Hannibal takes in the full meaning of what he’s saying. He has been afraid before that moment. He has considered the possibility that he has found meaning and connection where there was only sickness and obsession but in that moment the glass and steel that stand between them disappear and they understand each other like no time has passed since that evening in the Uffizi Gallery and, oh God, he can hardly breath.

 

**********

 

He keeps working, and he starts planning. He also takes time for himself. He’s tired of being a mirror, a sponge. He wants to be himself, he _needs_ to be himself if he’s going to be with Hannibal, he can’t risk losing his own mind again. 

He gets rid of his nice suburban clothes but he can’t bring himself to go back to plaid shirts and cotton pants. In the end he settles for jeans and plain shirts, and then he changes his shoes for a pair of boots. He also gets a black coat and a dark cashmere scarf. Just a tiny bit of Hannibal, some of his old self and something new to try on. It works for him.

He thinks a lot. About life and death and morality. About the lines he’s willing to cross and where his limits are. He sorts through what is real about him and what is just a social construct and he finds himself somewhere in between. He seems himself through Hannibal’s eyes, but also through his own. He becomes.

 

**********

 

He finds the Great Red Dragon and sends everyone after him. Once he’s sure they’ve caught him he sets his plan in motion. He’s told Hannibal everything he needs to know and he knows he’s understood it even if it’s been hidden in different conversations and obscure references. He fucking hopes he’s understood it. 

He has found out that he absolutely does not want to kill innocent people, but he’s certainly willing to risk some damage  so he sets fire to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He knows the evacuation procedures and so Hannibal finds a scalpel hidden in the cart they strap him to. It seems like hours pass since the generators blow up until he sees the garbage disposal chute open, even though he knows it can’t be longer than twenty minutes.

But the chute does open and Hannibal comes through it and after just a moment of uncertainty he sees the car running. He gets in the car and before he’s closed the door the gas pedal is against the floor and they’re leaving the burning building behind.

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, so sorry if anything sounds weird, I usually value rhythm over grammar.  
> I'll probably write a second part if I find the time so, there's that.


End file.
